


Inheritance

by gloryasme



Series: FNAF but in no particular order because the timeline doesn't exist [5]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Exposition, Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes, I don't know what I'm doing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, Michael-centric, Scars, Somewhere, Timeline What Timeline, a lot of exposition im so sorry, author pretdending to understand how wills work, i legit forgot about the other two so they're around, it was literally supposed to be a oneshot, mental hospital mention, none of this was planned, post the ending, suprise adoption i mean, talk of scars, why did i do this to myself, william trying to raise his only kid whilst grieving his others and wife, you're not supposed to like this ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloryasme/pseuds/gloryasme
Summary: Michael wondered if his father put anything concerning that mall into his will... does William *have* a will?
Relationships: Michael Afton & Charlotte "Charlie" Emily, Michael Afton & Clay Burke, Michael Afton & William Afton | Dave Miller
Series: FNAF but in no particular order because the timeline doesn't exist [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970749
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

The air seemed to be colder as the group stepped out of the mall and into the parking lot. Michael was zoned out as the others spoke. Carlton, nauseated and unable to stand without wobbling, placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder. The last living Afton was brought back to reality, to see the group staring at him.

“Are you okay, Michael?” Carlton asked. Michael stares for a moment longer at Carlton, then Charlie, then Clay. He nods. “Are you sure?”

“What’re you going to do now?” Jessica asked.

Michael sways. “Dad had to’ve lived somewhere, probably the old house. I’ll go check it out. See if he had a will or something.”

Clay couldn’t help but be suspicious of Michael. Had been since Charlie appeared on his doorstep with him saying Carlton had been kidnapped. “What would William have done with a will?” he asked.

Michael shrugged. “Might’ve passed on the ownership of the building. If not, we could tear Fazbear’s down and re-build.”

“You mean Freddy’s?” Lamar asked.

“No.” Michael shook his head. “This place isn’t the only location. There was another one open in nineteen eighty-five and Fredbear’s Diner back in eighty-three. Tear them all down.”

“I’ll drop you off then,” Charlie says as the groups diverge into their usuals.

Carlton looks like he doesn’t want to let go of Michael just yet, but his father ushers him into the car to go to the hospital. Marla, Lamar and Jason get in Marla’s car, and Michael slides into the backseat of Charlie’s car with Jessica beside him and John in the front.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jessica asks Michael when they’re on the road. “He was your father, I mean.”

“I’m fine,” Michael assured her. If he was honest, he didn’t believe the spring locks killed William. They didn’t the first time, why would they now?

“Michael,” Charlie calls front the front. “You’ve been inside one of the spring lock suits before… right?”

John and Jessica stared at Michael slightly alarmed, their minds going to the worst situation.

“Yeah, I was a guard at this place a couple’a years ago,” Michael responds. “I was a little reckless, and those kids got me.”

“They would’ve… tried to do that to us.” Jessica realised aloud. “If we hadn’t hidden under the stage.”

“Yeah.” Michael nods, half-assed. “Hurts a shit ton but it’s not guaranteed to kill you.”

“I mean--” John cut in, sounding unsure. “What’re the odds he survives it _twice_?”

Michael looks at him. “Low, but not unprobeable, considering who we’re dealing with.”

“You think she should go back and check?” Jessica asked.

“Nah, the kids will deal with him,” Michael says.

“We’re here,” Charlie mutters quietly, and Michael slips out of the car. “We’ll come back after we’re done packing,” Charlie calls.

Michael nods, and she drives away. He presses his old keys into the door, half-surprised they actually unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

The house was roughly the same as when he’d left, his father ever the clean freak, with a coat of dust over anything that wasn’t regularly used by the sole inhabitant. Michael by-passed most of the house and headed straight to his parent’s bedroom.

Michael ignores the photo frame on the bedside table and goes straight through his draws. Mostly clothes, nothing hidden under the fabric. Michael isn’t sure why he thought there would be; his father never hid anything from his mother, and the kids were never allowed into their room.

His next destination was his father’s workshop. The place his mechanical experience was cultivated. The workshop did have some interesting papers, bills and how he managed to own the entire abandoned mall, but nothing on who it’d go to in his death.

Next was his office; which he used when he was primarily involved with the financial part of the restaurants and not the entertainment part. Michael shifted through the papers slowly, paying attention to each detail when a knock on the door spooked him out of focus.

Clay grimaced, and Michael sighed.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked.

“Carlton wanted me to check up on you.” Clay replied.

Michael clicked his tongue and turned back to the papers in his hand. “Is that the only reason you’re here?”

Clay stared at the back of Michael’s head for a moment. “What happened to you?”

“What?”

“You just disappeared one day, and William refused to answer any questions about it. All he said was that you were alive and safe.” Clay said.

Michael pauses for a moment and turns to face the officer again. “I thought the whole town knew…” he muttered.

“Knew what?”

“It was a project gone wrong,” Michael says, shaking his head. “Thing exploded; I got the brunt of it.” he pulled his hair out of his face, showing off the white eye and burn scars. “I was completely blind in this eye. Dad was convinced it was a suicide attempt, which to be fair; he wasn’t completely wrong and put me into a mental hospital. I was there for four years.”

“Oh…” Clay wrinkled his nose. “Sorry for asking, then.”

“I thought you knew, to be honest.” Michael shrugged. “My school friends visited, so I figured people knew.”

“Guess I missed the memo,” Clay muttered, then paused. “Wait, _was_? Are you not blind anymore?”

Michael blinks. “Engineering is a fine skill when you master it.” he offers in explanation, going back to the papers.

“So… do you have anyone to lean on?” Clay asked. “Friends…?”

“I got some, yeah.” Michael nods. “Some people I met through work, mostly.” He pauses, as if realising something, then goes back to his task, though his brows furrowed in confusion. Clay chooses to ignore the strange act.

“Dad…” he hesitated. “He adopted a couple of kids after the other two died… they’d be the same age as Carlton around now… I wonder where they are…”

“William adopted children?” Clay asked. “I find that a little hard to believe.”

“In his own way,” Michael responded. Clay paused, then gave a heavy sigh. “Yeah.” Michael nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :me pretending to understand how wills work:
> 
> yes I wrote an entire will for William, you can read it in extras
> 
> also I made up a character for convenience
> 
> I'm so sorry if anything Iwamoto says is offensive

Michael could figure a lot out by the papers in his father’s house. The kids he’d “adopted” (truth be told, they just showed up on the doorstep one day and never left), named Samantha and Drew, were currently out of town. It made avoiding them simpler.

He did find a will, though. A lot of it was legal stuff that had nothing much to do with that actual family.

Michael was surprised he was even included on it, let alone the Executor. He wasn’t sure if he was eligible for that. Samantha and Drew were never legally adopted, as far as Michael knew, so Michael doubted they could even be properly considered as beneficiaries. He didn’t know who Hidetora Iwamoto (the back-up Executor if Michael chose not to be) was, but maybe it was worth finding out.

Michael basically got the entire company out of it, surprisingly, and two-fifths of the house and money. The rest of it going to Samantha and Drew. And, since they were minors, Michael (as Executor) basically had control of their inheritance until they were eighteen. That only counts if William had legal documents claiming those two as his.

There was a part saying to have as little court supervision as possible, but Michael doubted that’d go over well with his father being a known serial killer.

He continued to search through the draw and pulled out a couple of documents.

“I guess he did have legal proof they were his kids,” Michael muttered, staring at the obviously fake adoption papers. It looked real enough, but Michael could only guess they were used to enrol them into school, and both would be old enough for their drivers’ licence. Jobs too, now that Michael thought about it. And probably a passport, but he wasn’t sure if they’d ever had to leave the country.

At the bottom of the will was a witness statement signed by Mr Iwamoto with his contact information, so Michael decided to start from there.

* * *

“Hello?” A thick Japanese accent answered the phone, which really, Michael should’ve expected.

“Uh, hi?” Michael responded, feeling a bit awkward.

“Who is you?” the man who Michael assumed was Iwamoto asked sharply. Michael got the hint he’s probably involved with some shady business.

“My name is Michael Afton; I’ve heard you have some business with my father?” the line goes quiet for a moment.

“William’s son?” Iwamoto asked. “You should have said so sooner! Where is he?”

“Uh, that’s what I called to talk about, is there any way we could meet in person?”

“Yes, yes, of course! We can meet at a café, yeah?”

“Main street?” Michael offered.

“Yes, yes! See you soon!”

‘Oh,’ Michael thought. ‘We’re going now then…’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, this is going to be longer than I thought it was... i clearly don't know how to make a proper storyline, that's why this is all spread out ffs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since most eastern country systems are [last name] [first name] Iwamoto is referred to by last name but because of western systems its written in William's will as [first name] [last name]

Iwamoto somehow managed to figure out who Michael was, which was probably a good thing because Michael had no idea what Iwamoto looked like.

The Japanese man seems to be in his late thirties. A scruffy beard framed his mouth in a slob-typical way. His hair was just long enough to cover his eyes if he so desired and his eyes held a dangerous gleam shielded by rectangular glasses.

Despite the darkness in his eye and threatening vibe, Michael found it easy to approach. Perhaps it was because of the similar vibe they both radiated. Michael had grown up with people being generally threatened by his presence due to his towering height and sharp dead eyes. _He looked just a bit too much like his father._

Iwamoto actually hugged him when Michael got close enough which made him lock up at the sudden contact.

“You look much like your father! Very handsome!” Iwamoto laughed. 

Michael chuckled, awkwardly, and waited until he was released from the death grip to sit down. “How are you? William kept tabs, but he never spoke much about you.” Iwamoto says with more energy than it looked like he had. “Do you have a wife? Kids?”

‘Ah, invasive questions by a stranger.’ Michael grimaced internally. “Uh, no, no wife, no kids.” He instead responded. “I’ve been working, mostly.”

“It’s a tough balance.” Iwamoto concedes. “One I hear your father had to battle with, no?”

“Yeah.” Michael nodded. “About my father, how did you know him?”

“Ah, well.” Iwamoto shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “By complicated, do you mean illegal?”

“You’ve got your father’s wit.” The other muttered, leaning back into his chair. “But yeah, I specialise in that sort of stuff. Fake ID’s, passports ‘n the sorts.”

“Those adoption papers Father had.” Michael realises aloud.

“Yeah, that’s how we met.” Iwamoto shrugs. “People pay a fair bit for that stuff. I don't why he needed it though, figured he ran some sort-of child trafficking or something.”

Michael blinked. “Why would he need adoption papers for that?”

Iwamoto shrugged again. “Not my place to say. I just provided the papers; I don’t get involved with the work.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” Michael starts but is interrupted by a waitress approaching. He orders coffee and Iwamoto got some elaborate egg salad.

“Not gonna eat?” He asked Michael when she left.

Michael himself didn’t need to eat, but he was capable of injecting liquids since it didn’t _really_ need to break down. It was a complicated process. “No.” he replied.

“Father was actually a serial killer.” Michael continues once they settle again. Iwamoto raises his eyebrows but doesn’t react much more. “He killed a couple of kids a few years ago. One of them had a sibling a year younger and wanted… I don’t know, closure or something, so she ran away from home and appeared on our doorstep with a friend. He couldn’t really go to the police since he was under investigation and the kids weren’t gonna leave, so he just kept them.”

Iwamoto screwed up his face as he though over the new information. “Clearly the man’s capable of murder, why not kill them?”

“I think he was planning to,” Michael responded. “But they kinda acted like my younger sibling, both of which are dead, and I think those two were replacements of sorts.”

“Samantha and Andrew or something, right?”

“Close, his name is Drew.”

“Ah, right.”

“Would you say you and Father were close?” Michael asked.

Iwamoto looked at him curiously, like it was a weird question to ask in context. “I guess so. He was around a lot, nice company.” He pauses for a moment. “Though, now I’m curious on if he was planning on killing me too.”

“I don’t think so,” Michael responds. “He has you on his will as an Executor after me.”

“His will?” Iwamoto echoed, seeming surprised. “Wait, is he--”

“We assume so.” Michael interrupted. “Watched him bleed out. Either way, he’s not coming back.”

“Ah, so that’s why you called me.”

The pair simmered to silence as a different waitress as before comes over with Michael’s coffee. “Are you waiting for anything else?” She asks.

“Yeah,” Iwamoto responds, and the waitress walks away. “So, how’re you handling the will?”

“I’ll be the Executor.” Michael decides. “To be honest, I just wanted to know who you were since Dad never mentioned you to me. I guess I’ll have to tell the kids as well. Shit.”

“They don’t know?” Iwamoto asked.

“They’re out of town. Dunno what they’re doing but yeah.” Michael replied, nursing the mug in his hand. “I only found out- like- today, and the house was empty when I got there.”

“That must be hard on you,” Iwamoto said quietly. “I mean, he was your father.”

Michael huffed. “We were never close, really. He favoured my sister out of all of us, then literally sent me away during high school then right after I went to a different town so…” Michael trailed off. This man, quite literally a stranger, did not need to know of Michael’s four years in a mental hospital.

“Eh, thanks for meeting with me but I gotta get back to my friends.” Michael finished his coffee and stands up, dropping the cost of his drink onto the table and left with a not-so-casual “goodbye”.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie asks some questions and we get a death count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, something from someone else's perspective

Michael drummed his fingers over the wooden desk of his father’s office. The soft, rhythmic tapping was driving Charlie half-way up the wall.

“How can you stand that?” She asked. Michael looked up from the paper he was reading, confused, so she continued. “The tapping, it’s annoying.”

Michael shrugged at her and returned to reading. His conscious effort to stop moving his fingers not going unnoticed by Charlie. “Thanks.”

She didn’t like the silence. It felt awkward and stuffy in the room. Normally, she and Michael shared a like for the quiet, being able to co-exist without verbal communication. Words weren’t always needed to have a good time with a friend. Sometimes, it was just nice to know someone was there.

But Michael always seemed to  _ know _ something. And now that she knew his father was Dave (actually, William- as Clay had later explained), and was responsible for the murder of so many little children, her brother, even, she wondered what else he was hiding from her.

“I can feel your eyes burning holes into my head,” Michael comments, not looking up from the papers in his hand. “Do you want to ask me something, Charlotte?”

He always called her Charlotte. Not in the mocking way John used to when they were kids. It was like he was used to it. Just like how her father referred to her as Charlotte. She always thought it’d be exclusive to her father, but she didn’t really mind Michael using it either.

Charlie blinked. ‘No time for overthinking.’ She reminded herself. “Why did you lie about who your father was?” she asked.

“I never said who my parents were,” Michael replies. “I only ever told you that our dads were friends. And that wasn’t a lie. Besides, it’s not like Fazbears gives me good memories.” He muttered something more under his breath that Charlie didn’t catch.

“My brother died in nineteen eighty-three,” Charlie says, and Michael flinches. “And five kids died in nineteen seventy-six, what else happened at Freddy’s?”

“…Do you only account six deaths to that franchise?” Michael asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

“Two in eighty-three, six in eighty-five, seven in eighty-six, a nightguard in eighty-seven, two technicians in eighty-nine, another guard in ninety-two and dad.” Michael recited.

“Do you know all their names?”

“I made sure to memorise them,” Michael replied. He shrugged. “I’m not really sure why.”

Charlie watches Michael. He stared back at her. Even from the first time they met, Michael always seemed to hold this sadness in his eyes. Charlie could never figure out the look he’d give her.

~~ The same look Aunt Jen would give her. ~~

It bothered Charlie. But she wasn’t sure Michael would answer her.

“Can I ask you something?” She starts. Michael nods. “Why… do you always look at me like I’m a ghost?”

Michael hesitates and coughs into his hand. “I’m going to try these phone numbers.” He says, waving the paper he was reading in the air. “Maybe one of the kids will answer.” He steps out of the room to find the landline.

Charlie sighs and buries her face in her hands. Why did men have to be so secretive?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing...
> 
> Samantha and Drew!!
> 
> ...
> 
> ...but we're back to Michael's point of view

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this is dialogue-heavy, does it even make sense?? idk

Michael scratched off another phone number from the list he’d found. Could his father be any more ominous as to who’s phone number was whose? Label that shit, dammit!

Michael was losing hope in this search, but he’d prefer not go back to answer Charlotte’s question. He wasn’t sure what Charlie was doing, now either. She hadn’t left Father’s office.

“Hello?” he flinched, surprised at the voice in his ear. Most of the other numbers no one answered.

“Uh, hey, uh, is this Samantha Afton?” he stuttered over his words.

“Yes…” She answered slowly. “Who is this?”

“I’m not sure if you remember me, uh, but my name’s Michael Afton.”

He heard a faint echo of his name from someone else in the room with Samantha, then the ruffling of the phone being handed to someone else.

“Mikey?” A decidedly more masculine voice asked.

“Hey, Drew.”

“Oh, my god! We haven’t heard from you since--”

“Eighty-eight.” Michael finished. “Yeah, I know. M’ sorry I haven’t gotten in contact before now.”

“How did you get the hotel number?” Samantha asked. Michael heard a loud smack and a quiet ‘ow’ from Drew in the background, so he figures Samantha shoved him out of the way.

“I went through Father’s things and tested all the phone numbers around.”

“He let you do that?”

“Guys, there’s something I gotta tell you.” Michael starts. There’s shuffling on the other line, and he was sure both of the teenagers were listening. Michael breathed slowly. “Father went back to Fazbear’s. He got into the suit, and the spring locks triggered.”

A moment of silence.

“Is he dead?” Samantha asked.

“We assume so,” Michael replied.

“Are you okay?” asked Drew. “I mean--”

“If another person motions that he was my father, I will scream.” Michael hissed.

“Sorry.”

“Should we come back?” Samantha asked.

“I’m not sure what’s happening,” Michael says. “I think the whole "serial killer" thing is going to be publicised after this, so I’m not sure how planning a funeral will go down, for if he even deserves one.”

“We’ll come back.” Drew decides. “You need company, and it’s an excuse to catch up.”

“I thought you’d be a bit more hurt about this,” Michael comments idly.

“Well, he took care of us, but he was never really _there_ , for the past few years, y’ know?” Drew said. “He was practically a stranger to us. We knew you better in a year than him in seven.”

Samantha hummed her agreement. “I might go find my mom, as well. I did kind of just… leave her.”

“That’s fine.” Michael nods, knowing the other two couldn’t see them.

“We should be back in a couple of days,” Samantha says. “We’ll catch up then, okay?”

“You are staying at the house, right?” asked Drew.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll see you soon, Mike.”

“Bye.” The line went dead, and Michael rested his head on the wall. 

He wondered if he was ready to see them again. His relationship with them had been rough since they showed up whilst Michael was in the hospital and only got to see him whenever William visited.

They were 10, Michael was 20. We wondered how things had changed in the last seven years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If ya'll couldn't tell,,,
> 
> Michael was sent to the mental hospital at 17-18
> 
> Samantha and Drew were 10 when they appeared on Aftons doorstep, Michael was 20
> 
> they visited Michael with William for the remaining year until he got out for SL at 21
> 
> they are 17 now (same as charlie and the others) and Michael is 27


End file.
